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ruminations on various matters
Nov. 5th, 2007 05:44 pmI know I've been pretty quiet lately, but that's because not much is going on. I won my Supreme Court case in AP Gov -- Caminetti v. United States; I was Caminetti.
Uh, in other news, four ways to tell you live in the country:
1. "Hey, what'd you do this weekend?"
"Slaughtered hogs."
2. "You bastard! You didn't show up and I had to shuck all the hay by myself."
3. "Hey, mom, there's a dead deer by our driveway. I did not hit it."
4. "Hey, you want to go elk-hunting with me this weekend?"
All true conversations. Oh, Ellensburg.
Current NaNo wordcount stands at about 6K.
I have an eye exam Thursday to make sure my eyes aren't too bad for me to join the Air Force. Yes, I know, the very fact that I have to say that makes people want to quail and run away. Don't worry, I know my eyes are definitely too bad for me to actually fly; alas. I just need to know before I put in my application for an AFROTC scholarship, because otherwise it'll all have been a big waste of time and I'll be really pissed off at my damn eyes.
Why do I have the feeling that the thesis question for my senior project I-Search paper (yes, as if doing the project isn't actually bad enough, we also have to write a research paper) is going to be, "How do you get four branches of the Armed Services to work together in an intergalactic civil war, and who's going to kill each other first, the Marines and the Rangers or the enemy?"
I appear to have picked up a very faintly Southern tinge to my writing. This is in contrast to the entire time I was writing in CSI:NY, when all my writing was NYC-flavored.
Red Seas Under Red Skies is in my hands! I've had a hold on it for a week and a half, and it was due back a week ago, and it came in today. Hurrah!
I wrote a 160 word sentence, as I have fondly been telling everyone I met today. It has been met with, variously, "That's a pretty long sentence," "How many lines is that?", and "Faulkner wrote a sentence that was like 360 words."
The quarter ended Friday; only three-quarters of my senior year remain.
If my band doesn't start shutting up while we're practicing for the Veterans Day Assembly, I'm going to fucking slap someone. It's Veterans Day. You do not do that shit.
Uh, in other news, four ways to tell you live in the country:
1. "Hey, what'd you do this weekend?"
"Slaughtered hogs."
2. "You bastard! You didn't show up and I had to shuck all the hay by myself."
3. "Hey, mom, there's a dead deer by our driveway. I did not hit it."
4. "Hey, you want to go elk-hunting with me this weekend?"
All true conversations. Oh, Ellensburg.
Current NaNo wordcount stands at about 6K.
I have an eye exam Thursday to make sure my eyes aren't too bad for me to join the Air Force. Yes, I know, the very fact that I have to say that makes people want to quail and run away. Don't worry, I know my eyes are definitely too bad for me to actually fly; alas. I just need to know before I put in my application for an AFROTC scholarship, because otherwise it'll all have been a big waste of time and I'll be really pissed off at my damn eyes.
Why do I have the feeling that the thesis question for my senior project I-Search paper (yes, as if doing the project isn't actually bad enough, we also have to write a research paper) is going to be, "How do you get four branches of the Armed Services to work together in an intergalactic civil war, and who's going to kill each other first, the Marines and the Rangers or the enemy?"
I appear to have picked up a very faintly Southern tinge to my writing. This is in contrast to the entire time I was writing in CSI:NY, when all my writing was NYC-flavored.
Red Seas Under Red Skies is in my hands! I've had a hold on it for a week and a half, and it was due back a week ago, and it came in today. Hurrah!
I wrote a 160 word sentence, as I have fondly been telling everyone I met today. It has been met with, variously, "That's a pretty long sentence," "How many lines is that?", and "Faulkner wrote a sentence that was like 360 words."
The quarter ended Friday; only three-quarters of my senior year remain.
If my band doesn't start shutting up while we're practicing for the Veterans Day Assembly, I'm going to fucking slap someone. It's Veterans Day. You do not do that shit.